179
by oh-the-linsanity
Summary: She graduates ninth in her class, but she's first in marksmanship; Sasha Braus has a shooting score of 179/180. Apparently, it's the best that has ever been done, but it is not her best: she missed one shot.


_179_

She's quickly established as the runt of the litter.

Physically, she can't argue with that. She's tall, sure, but she's lankier than any of the other girls here. She sneaks glances at the others, and despite some of the food shortages that plague the lands still secured, none of the other girls ribs poked out quite like hers, none of their knees are as knobby or their shoulders as sharp. Standing beside them, she feels like an awkward deer—with her shirt that sags off her shoulders and pants that aren't as tight as they should be—ready to be picked off, skinned for her skin and slaughtered for her meat. So when she passes the abandoned kitchen and smells fresh potatoes, she feels no guilt in snagging one up, even when she spends the evening running laps until her lungs feel like they're going to burst against her rib cage. All the while, the sun scatters across the horizon and blinds her in the spaces between her lashes, and the orange blares like a loud target.

Sasha Braus is the runt of the litter, but she refuses to be picked off.

-/-

.

She isn't taken seriously until they are handed guns to practice on for the first time.

Shadis' voice blares unevenly across the field as they all sit in blocks, the components of the gun laid out before them, ready to be assembled. He's yelling instructions that she isn't really paying attention to because she knows how to put a gun together, how to hold it perfectly in place, how to shoot down a game bird without wasting a single shot.

Shadis doesn't even finish talking before she's got the whole gun assembled.

-/-

.

Target practice is something many trainees overlook.

A lot of them spend time with their dual blades because now that the titans have breached the wall, those who don't end up in the military police lives' depend on them being able to slay a titan. One of the taller boys—John, Jean?—is smug in his declaration of joining the military police, and therefore is one of the few who think his marksmanship holds a little more importance. Sasha can't bring herself to call him cocky; his confidence is something she's envious of. She watches as they start their first of many target tests that will eventually add to their final scores and rankings. There are six or seven—she doesn't remember—total shooting tests over the course of their training. The military can't afford to waste too many bullets and supplies for one, large, final test, so this has to suffice. Some call it unfair to be tested while they're learning, but it's only a small portion of their ranking, and it's simply the way things have to be.

Sasha is lumped into a group with Jean, as well as the hotheaded Eren Jaeger and his two friends. When the bell sounds and they start shooting, Sasha switches over to reflex and her mind drifts to thoughts of her home village. The forest they train in isn't as thick as the one she's used to, and it doesn't smell nearly as good—it lacks the scent of honeysuckle. She's dreaming of sipping sweet nectar when she realizes that the test is over and everyone's staring at her.

"Braus," and Shadis' voice is perplexed and awed. "You hit all 30 targets in the first round."

She cocks her head to the side ever so slightly. "Well, yeah, why wouldn't I?"

She is the first to have ever done so.

-/-

.

She thinks of the crunching noise the leaves would make under her boot in the fall. How she normally didn't have a gun, but a bow, perfectly crafted with her initials carved in the side.

30/30

She thinks of how many trainees have come before them and how many will come after them, and she wonders if the two little girls in her village will wind up here in a few years as well.

30/30

She thinks of how much muscle she's already gained, how her ribs don't poke out as much, how her shoulders are still sharp, but her eyes have grown sharper.

30/30

She thinks about being eaten, about being picked off by the titans, singled out as the runt of the litter. She wonders if they'd know or if they'd care, and she's reminded at how humans turn into skittish deer, frightened and frozen, and killed in seconds at the hand of those titans.

29/30

She thinks that she is smarter and faster and more skilled than titans. She decides she will not let her fear control her. Or at least, she hopes. And that is enough.

30/30

-/-

.

She graduates ninth in her class, but she's first in marksmanship; Sasha Braus has a shooting score of 179/180. Apparently, it's the best that has ever been done, but it is not _her_ best. She knows she can do better.

She missed one shot.

-/-

.

She returns to her home under less than ideal circumstances.

She has promised not to let fear control her, and she's only half surprised when she finds herself bursting into a home with nothing but an ax and starts chopping at the titan like a rotten log. When she finally grabs the child's hand, her fingers slender and clammy, and begins to run, she finally feels like the hunted for the first time in years.

She despises it.

There are only four arrows, four shots, to get this right.

The first one hits the titan, yes, but it doesn't do anything. It doesn't feel like a miss, but it certainly doesn't feel like a hit, and it's a strange combination that makes her realize that killing titans isn't like hunting animals—not completely.

The second arrow misses entirely, and her mind flashes to the one shot she missed and she curses herself for half a second, the only time she really has. She misses when her eyes become dull and her heart pumps with fear and she feels like the hunted, yes, but the thing is:

Sasha is a hunter.

And with the eyes as her targets, she takes her last two arrows aims, and fires. She refuses to miss, even if it means running up and stabbing it directly. It's exactly what she does, and she's just thankful it works.

She gets away, and in her book, it counts; she still only ever missed one shot.

-/-

.

"You almost hit Mikasa!"

_But I didn't_, she thinks, staring down at the arrow piercing the pistol.

She wouldn't have, anyway.

-/-

.

Erwin's plan gets messy.

"I thought we weren't going to kill the king," Levi says, and his voice sounds indifferent, as always, but Sasha has been around him long enough to know when he's distressed.

"Plans change," is all Erwin says before he lays out the steps before their squad. Sasha gets lost in the grandeur of it all. Infiltrating the King's palace involves a lot of undercover work and everyone is assigned an alias to get it all done. It's hard for her to keep track, and Sasha imagines only Armin knows everyone's role, so she tries to just focus on her own.

Eventually, Armin speaks up. "You want Levi to deliver the final blow?"

He's referring to the sniper job. The whole coup was to take place under the guise of a socialite event, one where the girls will wear 3D maneuver gear under big ball gowns, and the boys will simply have to do without. But the King was to be shot by a discreet sniper. One shot, one chance.

"Yes," Erwin answers. "I know Levi can handle the blood on his hands. Besides, he's got the record for the best marksman score back from his academy days."

"What was the score?" Armin asks.

Levi looks contemplative. "152. Why?"

His eyes slide to Sasha. "Sasha, yours was higher."

She feels like the skittish deer, the runt, the hunted as her stomach ties in an uncomfortable knot. "I don't know about—"

"Sasha, you score was higher."

"Armin—"

"Tell them your score."

She looks over and sees Erwin waiting expectantly. "179."

"Out of 180?"

"Yes, sir."

Erwin almost smiles. "You only missed one shot?"

Sasha looks away. "Don't sound so impressed. Sometimes all you have is one shot."

The starling truth of it all leaves the room silent.

Erwin still assigns the assassination of the King to Sasha Braus.

-/-

.

"You only have one shot." Levi reminds her as she's dressing for the job. She feels like a hunter again, not just a titan-slayer. It's still not the same, but she's still blending in with her surroundings, still trying to be unseen, still trying to catch her prey. "If you miss, you're dead."

"I know." She mumbles, fiddling with her gun. Behind her the sun blares orange like a target.

"Don't miss."

"I won't." and she hopes it isn't a lie.

-/-

.

The bullet goes straight through the King's heart.

She's still only ever missed one shot.

* * *

AN: I loooooove Sasha and I think there should be more fanfics about her where she's not just a goof so this is me providing that service. Yeah.


End file.
